it's okay
by runwiththenight
Summary: "You must be the one called Bellamy," the man gruffed, a sarcastic grin forming on his lips. "Yeah, your little princess cried for you-when I was in between her legs," Bellamy lunged forward, blood boiling, rage coursing through him, blinding him from the consequences. He would kill this man with his bare hands, he didn't care who he was. All he cared about was that they had her.


**TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE. **

**Horrible writing, I realize, I just was thinking about how much darker the 100 would be if it were like on HBO and this idea came to me. It's sad and scary but there is some fluff! I'm a sucker for fluff. I hope you like it, reviews are so appreciated (:**

"You must be the one called Bellamy," the man gruffed, a sarcastic grin forming on his lips. "Yeah, your little princess cried for you. When I was in between her legs,"

Bellamy lunged forward, blood boiling, rage coursing through him and blinding him from the consequences. He would kill this man with his bare hands, he didn't care who he was. All he cared about was that they had Clarke. But before he succeeded Kane had grabbed a handful of his jacket and threw him backwards. Abby was able to catch his arm and keep him upright.

"We have to keep a level head if we want to get her back," she whispered roughly but tears were streaming down her face. He nodded briskly, the fire in him dying down just enough to keep himself restrained. When he turned back toward the Grounder again, the man was still grinning.

Bellamy's voice shook with anger when he spoke. "Tell us what you want,"

The leader of the rebel Grounder tribe took a menacing step forward, his smile faded but an evil glint was still present in his eyes. Lexa called them the Rebels, a tribe made up of men that had been cast out of the Grounder community. A tribe of the worst kind of men: murderers, rapists, thieves, too cold and cruel for even the Grounder society.

And they had Clarke.

"We want your guns," the man grunted briefly. Shocked murmurs dispersed through the crowd. "Meet us near the river when the moon has reached the middle of the sky, or the girl dies," He began to retreat toward the gate where the rest of his men waited smugly. He stopped and turned once more toward Bellamy with an amused smirk. "Oh and I can't promise I won't have my fun with her before then,"

Bellamy turned on his heel and stormed back inside, Abby and Kane close behind. His hands shook furiously as he thought about everyone he would tear apart to get her back.

Clarke's eyes opened hesitantly, her subconscious fighting the awareness it knew she would soon need to desperately escape. For a moment all was hazy, her thoughts were clouded. Then suddenly, the cold air hit her damp skin, easily penetrating the thin, torn dress they'd forced her to wear. Her breath quickened as she glanced around the room, the memories slowly coming back to her.

_A stolen moment alone in the woods. She just wanted to go for a walk, clear her head. She thought she was safe. A noise behind her caught her attention but before she'd turned all the way around everything went black. She woke in a dark cabin, lit only by a candle across the room. She felt cold and exposed and looked down to see a thin, roughly woven dress clinging to her, her coat and jeans nowhere to be seen. What the hell? she thought, trying to keep the fear at bay. She had to stand up, she had to find a way out, she had to think. Her hands were bound and chained to the wall, she had to find a way to break them, to sneak out. As far as she could tell there was only one exit._

_Suddenly, the door slammed open and a giant of a man walked through, grinning menacingly. His hair hung down past his shoulders in long dreadlocks, he was covered in furs and tattoos._

"_So, the one they call the princess is awake. What a pretty princess you are," he taunted as he closed the door behind him. Clarke gulped and instinctively scooted back as he advanced towards her. But then she clenched her jaw, refusing to show weakness._

"_What do you want with me?" she demanded and was proud of how strong her voice sounded. _

_To her alarm he loosened his belt as he advanced on her. Her eyes widened and fear raced through her as she began to understand his intentions: the dark room, the dress. No, she thought, please, anything but that. But she would not beg. She cleared her throat._

"_The commander won't be happy to hear about this. We've grown close. Perhaps you have been misinformed. Let me go now and maybe she won't hear about this," Clarke demanded but the man only threw his head back and cackled._

"_Do you think I care what that bitch finds out?!" he roared. He got down on his knees right in front of her and she wanted to kick herself for instinctively jumping back. _

"_She let her own people cast us out. Your alliance with her will only make this sweeter," he growled. Then he leaned back and pulled off his fur coat, his shirt. Clarke could see the burn marks that represented kills; there were too many for her to count. When she spoke again, her voice was thick but did not waver, even though her whole body was shaking._

"_My people will come for me," she threatened as he pulled down his pants._

"_Good," he laughed and then he was on top of her, pushing her roughly against the ground. The chains dug into her wrists and she cried out._

"_No, please, please don't, please," she sobbed, the tears finally flowing now that she was left with no options. "Please," she screamed as he reached under her dress and roughly pulled her underwear down. She screamed and cried as he shoved himself inside her without remorse, over and over again, his weight too much for her to escape._

_They'll come for you, they have to, she tried to tell herself. Her mom wouldn't let them forget about her. Finn and Raven would demand to go after her. Bellamy would come for her. Bellamy. Her heart latched on to the thought of him, trying desperately to escape the pain of reality. Bellamy, please, I need you, please find me. _

"_Please, Bellamy," she accidently cried out loud, her voice hoarse and thick with tears. She shrieked when the man angrily ripped the front of her dress, exposing her bra. When he finally finished with a grunt and pulled himself off of her she was practically catatonic. He left her alone without saying a word and she cried endlessly, curled up on the floor._

Clarke snapped her eyes shut again, hoping and praying to every god she'd ever heard of that this wasn't real. That it was just a nightmare. She wanted that more than anything but the sharp ache between her legs reminded her, as did the dried streaks of blood that ran down the inside of them. The bruises on her wrist from trying hopelessly to break her chains, smashing them over and over again against the floor. She was sure her left one was broken, and she was positive by the sheen of sweat over her mud caked skin and the rattle in her cough that she was sick.

The man, Anthony, they called him, had come back three more times since the first night. By the third time the tears still rolled down her cheeks but she no longer screamed. She couldn't survive one more moment there, she wouldn't. She would escape or she would die trying.

Just then she heard a shuffling outside the door and she gasped, fear coursing straight through her chest, the pain between her legs became more intense. _No, _she silently begged. Then the door slammed open and she bit back a scream. She would not cry this time, she would not cry. She would not give that son of a bitch the satisfaction. She was gasping now, panic breaking through.

She lifted her eyes, determined to be strong, and her whole world stopped spinning for a moment.

"Bellamy," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. He stood there, seemingly shell shocked for a moment before running towards her.

"I knew you would come," she cried; She could no longer hold back her sobs and when he pulled her in his arms her whole body was racked with them. His smell, his warmth, the safety she felt with him. She knew everything was going to be okay now. She sighed into him, unable to express the relief that flooded through her.

"Come on, princess, we're gonna get you outta here," he whispered, looking around before grabbing the axe he kept in his belt. She flinched at the nickname, remembering how Anthony had taunted her with it but her attention quickly refocused when Bellamy placed her hands on the floor, telling her to lean back.

He raised the axe in his arm and she squeezed her eyes closed as he swung it down with as much force as he could muster, aiming for the chains that bound her.

When the loud thud clanged through the room, Clarke snapped her eyes open and reality flooded back to her like poison.

"Hallucinations, hmm?" Anthony grunted, already removing his belt. "That fever is getting the best of you, pretty princess. You might not make it in time for your people to make their deal,"

It wasn't real. It was a dream, a hallucination. The last of Clarke's hope disappeared and when Anthony landed on top of her, she forgot to hold back her screams.

"We need to leave," Bellamy demanded, his voice ominously low as he entered the council's room without warning or permission. He had a gun in his hand, a knife in his boot, and a pistol in his waistband. His pack was stocked with water and medicine. He was going after her whether they liked it or not, he would not wait another moment. It was already dark.

"We have decided on a course of action," Kane spoke calmly, his voice as condescending as ever. "We will attack their camp. They'll be surprised, especially since they don't know about our alliance with the Grounders. A team will break off and find Clarke. But the mission will be led by soldiers, not by trigger happy teenagers and a janitor," he sneered.

Bellamy was about an inch away from snapping, but he knew if he lunged for Kane's throat he would never make it to Clarke. He kept his voice as calm and steady as he could, although it shook with the effort. "I was a cadet before I was a janitor, _sir," _he hissed through his teeth. "I went through training, and I led these kids long before you got here. I can do this. I don't want to bring anyone with me, I'll go alone, I can sneak in, get Clarke out, and get her back to camp quietly,"

Kane just shook his head dismissively. "I've heard enough. You will remain here at camp, Mr. Blake,"

The guards took a step toward him, but he turned towards Abby, looking her directly in the eye. "Please," he begged her, seeing all his fear and pain reflected on her face. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could Kane cut her off.

"Arrest him,"

The guards raced forward and gripped Bellamy's arms, trying to drag him back out of the room, but he resisted with all his strength.

"You've got to be kidding me. Abby, _you're _the chancellor, you can give the order. You know I can save her," he was begging her now. When she simply looked away from him, Bellamy finally snapped.

"YOU MAY HAVE GIVEN UP ON HER BUT I HAVEN'T. I WON'T!" he screamed. Everyone in the room gasped, the guards finally relenting, though they didn't release him just yet. Abby turned towards him slowly, her face a stoic mask, but there were tears in her eyes. Bellamy gulped as she advanced on him, her eyes never leaving his.

"Go," she demanded and Bellamy breathed for what seemed like the first time that day. "Bring her home,"

"Abby-" Kane began to protest but she held her hand up to silence him.

"Mr. Blake is right, I am the chancellor, I can give the order. I wasn't sure he could manage the task, but I've changed my mind," she turned her attention back to Bellamy.

"You do whatever it takes to save her," she told him and he simply nodded in response, muscles coiled and ready to run. He turned and was about to do just that when she grabbed his arm. He turned back to her, frustrated and impatient. To his surprise, she took a step closer, whispering so that only he could hear her.

"Don't let the fact that you're in love with her screw this up,"

Her eyes bore into his relentlessly. His reaction would have normally been to scoff, or roll his eyes, or deny such an accusation in any way possible. But they didn't have time for that.

"I won't," he replied, and then he was gone.

An hour later, Bellamy stood hiding in the trees, shielded by the darkness. Every fiber of his being wanted to sprint into that camp and tear it apart until he found her but he knew he couldn't. He had to wait for the signal, for the distraction that would allow him to sneak in and get her out safely.

"C'mon," he mumbled impatiently. After ten minutes that felt like years, he finally saw the fire erupt on the other side of the camp. It immediately engulfed a small building, and people were suddenly running around, screaming, grabbing weapons, yelling in languages he didn't understand.

The door to the building closest to him opened and the man that had come to their camp earlier walked out. Bellamy heard him grunt something before reaching inside and grabbing a long sword. The man buttoned his pants before running off toward the battle and Bellamy was again struck with blinding fury.

_She has to be in there, _he thought desperately as he raced toward the building the man had just left. He ripped the door open, crashing through it, his eyes searching everywhere for her.

When they found her, all his anger disappeared and he was struck with a very unfamiliar feeling. His heart broke into a thousand pieces, sinking through him, stabbing him, telling him he was almost too late, that he might still be too late. He hadn't known what to expect when he got to her and had hoped against all hope that the Rebel leader had been lying when he'd talked about touching her, but he could immediately see that wasn't the case.

She was pallid and sheened in sweat. A dirty dress clung to her hips, ripped open to reveal her chest and her bra. He would have found it sexy any other time but now it just made him sick. Her breath was rattling, her eyes were half closed as she leaned against the wall, still unaware of his presence. But the sight that struck him to his core was the blood that stained her legs.

"Clarke," he breathed with tears in his eyes. His throat felt constricted. She snapped her head up, bloodshot eyes wide with fear and his world came crashing down around him. He didn't know what to expect when it came to her reaction. Would she be relieved or would she be angry that it took him so long to get to her?

What he didn't expect was for her to shake her head. For her to slowly back away from him.

"No," she whispered. "Please, no, not again,"

Did she think he was going to hurt her? "Clarke, it's me, it's Bellamy. It's okay. I'm going to get you out of here," he whispered, trying to keep his voice as reassuring as possible.

"No," she cried, tears pouring down her face. Each one was like a bullet wound to his chest. "No, this isn't real. It's just another hallucination. Please, not again, it just makes it worse, please," she begged. She was sobbing now, trying her best to get away from him but the chains binding her wrists kept her in place. She hung her head down defeated, squeezing her eyes shut and clapping her hand over her ears as if to shut him out. It was heartbreaking to see his brave, fiery princess shying away from him like a child afraid of a thunderstorm.

Bellamy walked slowly towards her, sinking to his knees in front of her, trying not to think about her being so desperate that she had hallucinated him saving her.

"_You must be the one called Bellamy. Yeah, your little princess cried for you. When I was in between her legs,"_

She'd needed him and he'd taken too long. He reached for her tentatively, gently pulling her hands away from her ears. He just needed to get her out of here.

"Hey princess, listen to me," he demanded gently, but she visibly flinched.

"Don't call me that," she practically growled.

Bellamy didn't understand but he simply nodded before trying to keep his voice as firm as possible. "Okay, okay I'm sorry. But this is real, I swear to you it is. I'm going to get you out, I'm going to take you home. I promise, okay?"

She still wouldn't look at him, she just stared past him as she drew another shaky breath. How could he make her believe him?

"Clarke," he almost yelled and her eyes finally met his. "Clarke, tell me how to make the hallucination stop. Tell me how they usually end,"

She watched him for a moment, and he could see her debating with herself. Finally she sighed and when she spoke he was shaken by how dead her voice sounded.

"The chains," she croaked. "He breaks the chains with his axe. The sound always wakes me up,"

"Who does?" he begs desperately. They were running out of time.

"Bellamy," she whispers, leaning her head back against the wall. She was so sure he wasn't real she was talking about him as if he wasn't there. He wondered how many times she'd hallucinated him saving her only to wake up in hell.

"Okay, okay," he was talking mostly to himself. "Give me your hands,"

She raised them without fight and he placed them on the floor. He reached for his axe, raising it above his head. He noticed Clarke kept her eyes closed. He had to hurry.

He swung the axe down as hard as he possibly could, and breathed a sigh of relief when the chains broke.

Clarke's eyes snapped open and she looked around wildly before finally meeting his gaze.

"I don't-,"

Bellamy grabbed her face in his hands and poured all the conviction he could muster into his voice. "Clarke, listen to me. This is real. I'm really here, and I'm going to get you out of here, but we have to go _now,_"

He could see the tears springing back up in her eyes. "Bellamy," she breathed, and he could see she believed it for the first time. Before he could react she threw her arms around him and he held her like she was a grenade that would explode if he let her go. One hand was threaded through her hair, holding her to him while she sobbed into his shoulder.

"It's okay baby, it's okay," he soothed, the name slipping past his lips, wanting to offer something but remembering not to call her 'princess,'

After a few moments, her breathing evened and she pulled back, peeking up at him through her wet lashes. Her eyes revealed her fear but her jaw was set. "We gotta get out of here," she said evenly.

_That's my girl, _he thought. "C'mon," he nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist, helping her stand. As soon as she was on her feet, they sprinted for the door, him in the lead in case anyone waited outside.

"Ahhh!" Clarke screamed suddenly and he whipped around in time to see her fall to the floor, squeezing her legs together, the pain evident on her face.

"Clarke," he whispered, his heart feeling like it'd been torn from his chest. How had he not thought of her being able to walk? All the blood on her, he should have known.

"It's okay," she grimaced, standing as she refused the hand he offered her. The hard determination was back. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all,"

Her eyes dragged up to his and he was surprised by the fire that lit up in her blue eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, Bellamy. I'm not weak. I'm fine. But I won't be if we don't get out of here," her voice shook as she spoke. Bellamy swallowed as he nodded, stricken speechless. He turned and headed back for the door, wanting so badly to help her but knowing she needed to feel some shred of control and independence.

He leaned outside, gun first, checking to make sure it was safe. He could at least do that. He breathed easier when he saw the ongoing battle clear on the other side of the camp.

"Let's go," he whispered to Clarke and she just nodded, following him into the forest. He led the way, trying to be discreet about how he constantly looked back to check on her. He wanted to sprint but he moved slow under the pretense of trying to be quiet; her jaw was already clenched so tight against the pain that he thought it would break; He couldn't make her run.

They were a mile away when he began to breathe easier, to feel like they were safe. _We did it, _he thought. He slowed to walk next to her and placed his hand tentatively on her lower back. She smiled weakly up at him before coughing violently into her arm. It wasn't until then that he noticed how her skin glistened with cold sweat, how exposed she was in the tattered dress she wore. When he looked down her feet were cut and bloody and Bellamy closed his eyes, wanting to kick himself for not paying attention to that sooner. He didn't know how she was still standing, let alone walking through the woods, but he was doing a pretty shitty job of _saving _her.

"Here," he said quietly, shrugging out of his jacket. She looked at him wide eyed for a moment but he slid it around her shoulders before she could protest. He could see her debating for a moment before she slid her arms into it and pulled it around her, sighing contently.

"Thank you," she whispered with her eyes closed. He simply stood and watched her for a moment, lost in how damaged yet strong she was, wanting nothing more than to hold her and keep her safe forever but he knew she didn't need it. She was one of the strongest people he'd ever met. Her eyes finally opened and met his and for a moment they only saw each other.

_Don't let the fact that you're in love with her screw this up._

Bellamy sighed and opened his mouth to tell her they should get going when a twig snapped behind them. They both whipped around and he heard Clarke gasp, taking an instinctive step backwards.

Out of the shadows a man appeared, stepping into the moonlight. It took Bellamy a minute to recognize him but when he did he raised his gun, his blood boiling in his veins.

"Get the hell out of here or I will kill you," Bellamy shouted. He could hear Clarke's shaking breath behind him and his finger was cocking the gun before he decided to do it.

"Ah, but you're taking my little toy. This was not the deal we agreed on. Besides, I think she was starting to like me," the man grinned.

"Our people will defeat yours if they haven't already. Your village will burn to the ground. You've already lost," Bellamy told him but the man only shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. All I want is the girl," he said simply.

Bellamy knew if the Rebel took another step he could kill him. He would. He wanted to for what he did to Clarke. But shooting first, killing this man out of revenge rather than self-defense, Bellamy didn't know if he could do that. He'd changed, he'd been haunted by the blood on his hands before and going back down that dark road frightened him.

But he had to. He had to do this for Clarke. He had to keep her safe, get her home. He would simply have to live with it; he'd done it before and if anyone deserved to die, it was definitely this man. Bellamy closed one eye, aiming his gun but before he could shoot, he felt cold hands brush against his skin and the pistol he'd forgotten about slide out of his waistband.

"Clarke, no-!" he shouted, spinning around to stop her but it was too late. She'd already raised the gun with both hands and shot the man in the stomach. Bellamy watched her for a minute, eyes narrowed, sure stance. She was all fury and wrath and Bellamy didn't want that for her. He took a step toward her but she took one away and fired again. Bellamy glanced at the man looking down in disbelief at the blood that slipped out of his stomach and over his fingers. The Rebel fell to his knees when she fired again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Finally, the gun clicked, out of ammo, and she stood over the monster that had hurt her in the worst way, watching him die in front of her.

The gun dropped to her side.

"Clarke,-" Bellamy whispered and he got to her just in time for her eyes to flutter closed and her knees to buckle underneath her.

When Clarke opened her eyes again, she was laying on something soft, covered in blankets. There was soft lights around her and she was so warm and comfortable that she smiled.

And then she remembered.

She sat up suddenly, gasping, looking around wildly.

She heard a soothing voice behind her and then her mom was there, rubbing her hair and holding her hand.

"Clarke, hey, it's okay, it's okay," Abby whispered. "You're safe,"

Clarke felt her throat constrict, the tears threatening to flow. It was real, she was safe, she was home. She collapsed into her moms arms, sobbing uncontrollably while Abby rubbed her back, tears streaming off her face as well.

"It's okay baby, you're okay. I'm so sorry this happened to you,"

Clarke finally pulled back, somewhat calmed down.

_It's okay baby. _Clarke remembered vaguely.

"Where's-?" she trailed off, looking over to the other side of her bed to see Bellamy's sleeping form sprawled out on the hard floor, his jacket balled up beneath his head.

"That's the first time he's slept since you came back. He hasn't left your side," Abby whispered.

Clarke felt a sad smile creep across her lips. Thinking about him saving her reminded her of what she'd needed saving from. She shifted and the ache between her legs brought fresh tears to her eyes and she sighed exasperatedly. She was so sick of crying.

"He saved me just in time," Clarke cried. "I don't think I would've made it another day without losing my mind. I'm still not sure I did," she sobbed and she hated the way her voice cracked, the way she fell apart in her mom's arms like a small child.

"I promise you that you will get through this," Abby whispered. "You're safe now,"

Clarke looked at Bellamy and realized it was his arms she craved. He was the one that made her feel safe, but she wanted him to sleep so she turned back to her mom. Before she could say anything, Abby spoke.

"I'm not sure you're aware of how much he cares about you. I think he would walk straight through fire for you,"

Clarke nodded. "I know. I'd do the same for him," she replied almost defensively. Abby just smiled.

"I didn't want him to go after you. Kane and I wanted to send in soldiers, people we believed would know better. I saw Bellamy the way the rest of the council did: young, impulsive,"

"What changed your mind?"

Abby glanced at Bellamy snoring softly and then back at her daughter.

"Well, let's just say he changed it for me. He wouldn't have stopped until I let him go,"

Clarke was somewhat taken aback by the amusement and fondness in her mother's voice when she talked about Bellamy, but she wasn't surprised that he'd fought for her. She had always known he would, just like she would do for him.

And right now, she just wanted to be alone with him.

"Mom, I'm really tired, I think I'm gonna go back to sleep," Clarke sighed, feigning a yawn. Abby only smiled knowingly and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

"Goodnight," she murmured.

Clarke turned on her side, taking in the makeshift bed of thick furs beneath her. She was no longer in that awful dress but instead in warm pants and a tank top. Her skin was scrubbed clean, her wrist bandaged and she was eternally grateful that she had slept through it all.

She spent a moment peering through the darkness, heavier after her mom had blown out the candle, watching Bellamy's vague form. This man that had saved her, that had fought tooth and nail for her, that had been willing to kill for her so that she wouldn't have to have that blood on her hands.

She remembers pulling the trigger over and over again, she recalls the blood slipping through Anthony's fingers, pouring out of his mouth until he fell to the ground. She remembers it not being enough, she wanted more than death for him. She knows she should feel sick thinking about it, but she comes up empty. Instead of dwelling, she reaches her hand out until it connects with Bellamy's arm, warm and strong.

Almost immediately he sits up straight, gasping, looking around him in the dark.

"Hey," she says softly, reaching for his hand. "It's okay, I'm right here,"

She hears his audible sigh of relief and bites her lip against the warmth that spreads through her because of it. _We're close, we trust each other, we care about each other, we need each other, we've been through everything together. That's all it is.._

"Hey," he breathes, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

Maybe it's from everything she's gone through but she finds a new bravery that she never had before. "You shouldn't sleep on the ground," she whispers, scooting over in her bed to make room for him.

Her eyes are adjusted to the dark and she can see him hesitate, his eyes searching her face.

"Please," she says, and tries to pour as much into that simple word that she can. _Please, I need you. You make me feel safe. You saved me. How can I thank you? _

He seems to understand and slides under the covers with her, leaving space between them. She tries not to be offended; she knows he means well and this is a lot more intimate than they've ever been. Still, she craves his touch, anything to remind her that she isn't going to lose her mind, that he's there to tether her to reality.

Nervously, she reaches out her hand and he meets it with his, intertwining their fingers together gently. She has to tell him, she has to say it but her throat is constricting again and her eyes are betraying her once more as they fill with hot, hateful tears.

Still, she's desperate and she manages to choke it out. "Thank you for saving me,"

And then she can't hold it back anymore, it falls on her like a waterfall, everything that has happened.

The hallucinations.

What he did to her.

She killed him.

She shot him.

It wasn't enough, she wanted more.

She craved his blood, she wanted to tear him limb from limb.

She was broken and bleeding, she was sick.

He raped her.

Bellamy reaches across the distance and crushes her to his chest, rubbing her back, her hair, rocking her and she thinks that he might be crying, too.

God, she loves him. She doesn't want to think about how or why or in what way or what it means but she does, she loves him and she _knows _she wouldn't make it through this without him.

After what seems like hours she is finally able to breathe, the tears stop pouring out of her. Bellamy relaxes his hold only a little, but she still clings to him as he rubs her back.

"It's okay, baby," he whispers until she finally falls asleep.

The next few weeks are rough for Clarke. She's confined to the infirmary for another week after she wakes up and even after that it's still hard for her to walk and her wrist is practically destroyed. But she's surrounded by love and support. Octavia cries with her and holds her whenever she needs it which is frustratingly often. Raven makes her a brace for her arm. Finn keeps his distance, but offers her supportive words and looks whenever he can and she appreciates them. Her mom talks her through her panic attacks and Jasper and Monty tag team to make her laugh.

But Bellamy is her rock. He's always by her side unless he really senses she needs to be alone and even then he's back checking on her within the hour. He holds her and rocks her but he hasn't called her 'baby' since the night he laid in bed with her and she finds herself pathetically missing it. She remembers the warmth it shot through her chest and she craves that feeling now more than ever.

More often than not she feels hollow, and if it's not hollow it's angry or sick or sad. She wants to smile, to be happy and genuinely laugh but it feels impossible.

One afternoon she's alone cleaning tools in the infirmary. She places them back in the medical kit which is supposed to go on a shelf above her head. She hasn't been able to lift anything this heavy since she broke her wrist but no one else is here and it needs to be put away.

A fiery determination comes over her.

She grabs the kit with her good hand, standing beneath the shelf. Then she holds it with both hands, wincing at the sharp stab that shoots through her arm as a result.

She's so _sick _of being so goddamn helpless and needy. She takes a deep breath, counts to three in her mind, and then she puts all her force into lifting the kit above her.

It drops immediately, spilling open, freshly cleaned tools sliding across the floor as she cradles her throbbing wrist.

And then she's screaming, angry tears spilling from her eyes as her chest heaves and she kicks the kit across the room and then she turns around and leans over the counter, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. She'd give anything not to feel this anymore.

It's only moments before he's behind her. He only places a warm hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles until her breath comes back to her, her eyes finally dry albeit bloodshot. She stands up straight but keeps her back to him.

His hand trails down to hers and he tugs on it gently.

"Come here, baby," he whispers sadly and suddenly it feels patronizing and annoying, despite how much she'd craved to hear him say it lately. S

he snatches her hand away from him.

"What I'm not your _princess _anymore?" she snaps over her shoulder. He's quiet for a moment and she can't bring herself to turn and look at him, regret already flooding through her. She's so sick of herself and her mood swings, she can only imagine how he must feel. It's a wonder he's so patient with her, that he hasn't told her she's nuts and walked out yet.

She's half expecting him to, so her eyes widen when he quietly says, "You told me not to call you that,"

She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping the counter as the memory comes back to her. Her being so sure he wasn't real, it hurting so bad to have his nickname for her ruined by _him. _She sighs, her eyes still closed. She knows she owes him an explanation.

"It what _he _called me when he-," she cuts off, unable to finish her sentence. She's not crying anymore, the emptiness has taken over, a beautiful defense mechanism against the painful memories that never stop haunting her.

She feels Bellamy come closer, resting one hand lightly on her arm. He rests his head against hers, and she leans into him, finally feeling like she can breathe.

"Clarke, tell me what I can do. Please," he whispers, his breath tingling against her neck.

She wishes she had an answer for him. She wants it to go away too, she wants it to stop. This hurricane of pain inside her that sucks her under over and over, only letting her take one ragged breath just to keep her alive before it drowns her again. She'd do anything for him to take it away, for him to make her feel-

A glimmer of hope sparks inside her, something so different from anything she's felt recently that she clings on to it. She almost smiles.

"You can make me feel something else," she breathes. She finally turns around, taking in his confused expression. He stands so close to her, and she can feel she it-this is what she needs.

"You can make me feel something else,"

Bellamy didn't understand what she meant but when she turned around her eyes were so bright and excited it pulled at his heart and he was suddenly a desperate man- he knew he would do anything to fuel that look.

He opened his mouth to ask her what she meant but before he had a chance she crashed her lips against his, running her hands up his chest and around his neck.

It took him a moment to rid himself of the shock that was _Clarke kissing him _but when he did he relished it, not realizing how much he had craved it until it happened. He gripped her waist, pulling her closer. He wanted to consume all of her, to feel her against him and for her to feel everything he felt for her translated in this moment. He ran his hands up her back, and then in her hair, cradling her face.

She was moaning against him, pressing her body to his in the most delicious way. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands tangled in his hair or how she gently bit his lower lip. Her enthusiasm was intoxicating but when she slipped her hand under his shirt, trying to pull it off, realization crashed over him.

_You can make me feel something else._

He stiffened and then made himself pull away, gripping her arms and gently pulling her back.

Her eyes fluttered open, full of confusion. He leaned his forehead against hers, his hands still wrapped around her arms.

"Clarke," he breathed heavily. "You're not thinking straight. This isn't right,"

She huffed and took a step back. When he finally built up the courage to meet her gaze he was horrified by what he found. Her eyes were full of the pain of rejection, her cheeks pink. Her jaw was set in the way he'd come to recognize as her desperately trying not to cry.

"Bellamy, I'm a big girl. You can tell me you don't want me like that, it's fine," she stated shortly and she turned to walk away but he grabbed her arm almost too tightly and pulled her back in front of him. He cradled her face gently but firmly and looked her dead in the eyes.

"You have _no idea _how bad I want you," he growled with as much conviction as possible. Then softer,"But not like this,"

Her eyes bore into his for a moment as they welled up with tears. She barely choked out a raspy "I'm sorry," before he folded her into his arms, lips pressed against the top of her head.

He wanted to tell her, the words were fighting to escape his lips.

_I love you, Clarke._

But he figured she'd been through enough.

The weeks passed a little easier as Clarke's physical wounds healed. The mental ones would take longer, she knew, but they were coming along as well. She was even able to smile and laugh again, even if it was rare. It helped when respect replaced the looks of pity that she had never gotten used to. She also hadn't been outside the walls since she'd been back but she'd managed to find plenty of work within them; Keeping busy helped the most.

Bellamy stopped hovering so much, even managing to make his way out on a few hunting trips, though he always made a mission out of finding her as soon as he returned. They never talked about the day in the infirmary but things had definitely shifted after it. Touches and smiles came easier, along with lingering looks. It wasn't uncommon for him to press his lips to her forehead or wrap his arms around her. The warmth and safety of him was the most healing thing of all.

Clarke was definitely healing and she knew she was going to be okay, but there was one thing she still craved desperately: her freedom. Being chained to the floor for three days was agonizing, and it gave her a new respect for Octavia. But now that she was back at camp she couldn't help but feel restrained. She hadn't tried to leave but she knew if she did the idea wouldn't be welcomed.

So one night, when the fire cooled and mostly everyone had gone to bed, Clarke slipped through the shadows of the quiet camp to an unguarded piece of fence that she'd seen Octavia use to sneak out a few times. A few of the wooden planks were loose and could be pulled aside to create a narrow doorway.

Clarke took a hesitant breath; All she wanted was a moment on her one outside the wall. One moment to regain her strength and independence and if she was being honest with herself, her pride. She didn't want a bodyguard or someone's wary eyes to watch her. She just wanted to feel free.

So with one final huff to gain her strength, she slipped through the gate into the outside world. She looked up and around, taking in the sky and the unlimited expanse of forest that was hers to sprint through if she dared. Her intention had been to only step outside briefly but a strange adrenaline was coursing through her and she had the craziest impulse to run. A small smile started to spread across her lips and she was just about to take off when a hand wrapped firmly around her arm.

The scream was stuck in her throat, but panic was racing through her as the hand pulled her back through the gate. It took her a moment to realize it wasn't Anthony or a Rebel but Bellamy and the fear immediately subsided. She was about to say something when she noticed he wasn't looking at her, only continuing to grab her arm and practically dragging her through camp. Her feet stumbled along behind him, her mind confused by his aggression and unwillingness to look at her. She shrieked when he shoved her roughly inside his tent, following close behind.

When he closed to flap behind him and finally brought his gaze up to hers she was shocked by the fury she found in his eyes.

"Bellamy, what-?" she started but he cut her off.

"Have you lost your mind?!" he growled at her, his voice so rough and ominously low that she took a step back.

"I- I don't- I didn't mean to-" she stuttered, unsure of how to respond to him. He was so angry he was nearly shaking.

"Didn't mean to what?! Scare the hell out of me? What were you thinking, going out there by yourself?!"

Clarke swallowed, looking down guiltily. What kind of answer could she offer him? How could she explain her desperation to go outside, to run through the forest? Even she had known it was insane.

"I just wanted to-" she started but was again cut off.

"Wanted to what, get kidnapped again?!" he shouted, causing her to take another step back. She barely recognized him in all his fury.

"Do you have a death wish?" he roared. She wanted to calm him down but she felt her own anger rising up in response to his. How the hell could he talk to her like this, as if he knew what she felt? He didn't own her, he didn't get to tell her what to do. He never would have tried before everything that had happened to her so why did he think it was okay now? She was so _sick _of being treated like some damsel in distress.

"No, Bellamy, I just wanted to go outside for five seconds and I didn't feel like I needed a babysitter! I'm sorry I didn't ask for your _permission _first," she spat sarcastically and his eyes widened, his anger only growing if that were possible.

"You don't need my permission, Clarke, but you need some kind of protection! You didn't even take a gun with you, let alone tell anyone what you were doing!"

She opened her mouth to defend herself but was again cut off.

"Don't tell me it was only for a minute, I know you would have ran if I hadn't stopped you. You could have been killed," he snapped. She knew he was right but Clarke wasn't ready to back down, riding high on her newfound rage.

"Oh don't act like this is about my safety! You're only mad because I didn't give you the chance to stop me, because you didn't get to be in control! I know you have this whole hero complex going on now, but I don't need it, I can take care of myself!" she shouted, not caring about the volume of her voice. She knew her words were cruel and ungrateful but they slipped past her lips anyway, sharp and razor tipped but Bellamy didn't flinch.

"Don't you think I know that Clarke?'

"No, Bellamy I don't because you-,"

"Because I what, try to keep you safe? I know, I'm such a monster!,"

"I'm not some princess you can keep locked up in a tower!"

They were suddenly screaming over each other, both refusing to back down, neither of them really hearing the other one. Clarke had tears in her eyes and Bellamy's voice was hoarse but they still went head to head relentlessly, the space between them closing every moment.

"I don't understand why you're so mad!" Clarke screamed, angry tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

"BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU!" Bellamy roared, finally silencing both of them. They stood maybe a foot apart, both breathing heavily. All the fire that burned through Clarke disappeared with his proclamation and all she could feel was that warmth moving through her. Her eyes bore into his, softening with every moment.

Bellamy closed his eyes and looked down. He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and then nervously run through his hair, shaking his head.

"I mean-I-," he sighed exasperatedly, refusing to meet her eyes again. How was he going to explain this one?

His next attempt was quickly silenced by Clarke's lips crashing against his and this time he didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, bringing her in as close as he could but it was never close enough. His hands roamed over every inch of her, rubbing her back, threading through her hair, cupping her cheeks and swiping his thumbs gently over her dried tears.

He kissed her endlessly and she could feel it, she could feel that he'd meant what he'd said. He loved her and she loved him. They were both trying to pour that feeling into their kiss, fighting for the other to believe it. Her hands ran up his arms, gripped his shoulders, rested on his neck.

_I love you, I love you, I love you, _she screamed internally as she moved her mouth against his. His grip on her tightened even more, gently lifting her feet off the floor and moving her to his makeshift bed. He laid her down so tenderly beneath him that she sighed against his lips, so touched and moved by him that she couldn't hold it in.

When she slipped her hands beneath his shirt, running them gently against his back before she finally lifted it over his head, she was reminded of the day in the infirmary but this was so different and so much _better. _She was so glad he'd made her wait.

If she was being honest with herself she was nervous as he placed soft kisses behind her ear down to her collarbone. Her hands shook when she unbuttoned his pants. Her breath hitched with both anticipation and fear when he rolled her shirt up and over her head, skimming his hands against her skin the whole way.

But she was also ready. She wanted this with him more than she'd ever wanted anything and she was so happy that it was him, so relieved that he would be the first one after what she'd been through. Her knees shook when he pulled her underwear off but heat still pooled in her belly and she was eager when he positioned himself at her entrance.

Bellamy intertwined his fingers with hers and brought them over her head. He leaned on his elbow and rested his other hand in her hair, his forehead against hers, their noses touching. He looked into her eyes, searching for permission. Clarke only smiled and reached up to press her lips to his.

Slowly he slid inside her, and she couldn't help but wince slightly against the dull ache. It wasn't too much, though, she could do this, she wanted this.

But Bellamy had noticed.

He propped himself up more, bringing his other hand to cup her face gently but firmly. His eyes bore into hers.

"Clarke, I can stop. We don't have to do this," he said softly.

She brought her hands up to tangle in his hair and rest on his neck. She matched his gaze with equal intensity.

"Bellamy, I love you. I don't want you to stop," she breathed and his mouth was on hers again, kissing her passionately and she felt filled to the brim with this explosive love for him.

Suddenly he rolled over and pulled her gently on top of him, never removing himself from inside her. Clarke sucked in a sharp breath but then she immediately felt better.

She could control this now, how deep he went, how hard, how fast and if it was too much she could stop it. She knew that was his intention and when she tentatively rolled her hips against him it felt so good she moaned involuntarily. She hadn't been sure sex would ever feel good again and she suddenly felt more hopeful than she had for weeks. A genuine smile broke across her face.

Bellamy sat up to meet her lips with his, offering her more friction. She sighed and moaned into his mouth, goosebumps erupting over her skin as he ran his hands up her back and tangled them in her hair. He began leaving hot, wet kisses all over her: her hands, her neck and chest. He groaned against her as she rode him to the edge, screaming his name when she toppled over it and he followed.

They collapsed on the bed, both chests heaving. It took a moment for their bodies to calm down before they scooted closer to one another, Clarke lying on his chest, her arms wrapped around him while his fingers trailed up and down her back.

"I love you, Bellamy," she managed after a long but comfortable silence. She was surprised by how much harder it was to say in the quiet of everything, how nervous she was despite him having said it first. But once the words were out, she didn't want them back. She wanted to say them over and over again.

She leaned back until she could look into his eyes and found everything she felt reflected back in them. He covered her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, pressing warm kisses against her fingers.

"I love you too," he breathed.

And for the first time in so long, Clarke felt like she might actually be okay.


End file.
